


leave the bourbon on the shelf (and i'll drink it by myself)

by dissociativeclifford



Series: young dumb broke high school kids [8]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Sad, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissociativeclifford/pseuds/dissociativeclifford
Summary: stan doesn't take well to being told what to do, even when he really needs to hear it





	leave the bourbon on the shelf (and i'll drink it by myself)

**Author's Note:**

> they got in a fight about something undecided and stan had a little bit of a breakdown

**sadboi:** kenhy

**sadboi:** window. Open it

**sadboi:** lkneny im sorryh le me talk o you

**sadboi:** i lvoe you

 

**stonerkid:** its 2am

 

**sadboi:** pelase

**sadboi:** jsut let me talk to you s nad ill leave

**sadboi:** i pormsie

 

Kenny sighs in exasperation as he rolls out of bed to walk over to his window.  Stan’s lucky he’s awake, really; he had almost gone to bed a while ago but had instead opted for listening to music and staring at his ceiling for a bit.  Pulling back the blinds, his heart skips a beat when he sees Stan standing directly in front of his window, skin pale and tears rolling down his cheeks.

Kenny pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Jesus, Stan,” he mumbles to himself, then slowly pulls his window open, trying his best to keep it as quiet as possible.  Stan doesn’t move once the glass pane is pulled aside, just stands there, sniffling pitifully in a way that makes Kenny simultaneously heartbroken and frustrated.  “Don’t just stand there. Get in here.”

Stan nods and grips the inside of the window, throwing his legs over the wall underneath and pulling himself into Kenny’s room, which isn’t much warmer than the crisp air outside.  He often wonders why Kenny sleeps in his parka, but whenever he’s in his boyfriend’s room he’s painfully reminded of how cold it gets. Once his feet are planted firmly on the dirty carpet, Stan just stares at Kenny once again, almost expectantly, despite  _ himself _ being the one that had showed up at Kenny’s house at a completely unacceptable hour of the night.

“You’re drunk,” Kenny says bluntly, his arms folded across his chest.

“No ‘m not,” Stan shoots back defensively, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yes you are,” the blonde replies, sighing. 

“No I’m  _ not _ !”

With the way Stan’s voice breaks Kenny can basically hear the sob building in his throat.  Despite his frustration, he steps toward Stan and starts unwrapping the scratchy scarf from his neck.  It reeks of alcohol, which makes Kenny wonder if Stan was drinking outside somewhere, or on the walk over, or hundreds of other possibilities.  The way Stan curls away from his touch frightens Kenny- as annoyed as he is with Stan today, seeing him like this will always hurt.

“Stan…” Kenny murmurs, gently cupping the side of Stan’s face, wiping tears away with his thumb.  “Let’s get in bed, yeah? It’s okay,” he continues, guiding Stan to the old mattress and helping him get his shoes off.

 

Stan’s still crying once Kenny crawls into bed next to him.  “Hey, look at me, please,” Kenny instructs, holding Stan’s chin in his hand.  “Breathe with me, nice and slow, okay?”

Stan nods, squeezing Kenny’s hand until Kenny can’t feel it anymore.  He tries to focus in his hearing on Kenny’s voice, but his head is spinning, and so is his stomach, and he can’t quite discern between what he should and shouldn’t be feeling.

Gently, Kenny slips his hand into Stan’s hair, petting and scratching his boyfriend’s scalp.  He can feel Stan relax a little, but his body is still shaking.

“Stan, you can’t keep doing this,” Kenny says firmly, his other hand resting under Stan’s chin to maintain eye contact.  Stan shifts his gaze away from Kenny, embarrassed, or upset, or some other emotion that Kenny’s unable to read. “I know you don’t wanna hear it.  But I love you, so you are gonna hear it,” the blonde continues, biting his lip when he sees more tears pooling in the corners of Stan’s eyes. “You can’t be drinking like this on your meds.  You know that.”

Stan nods, and Kenny swears he hears him whimper.  He keeps playing with Stan’s hair, knowing it’ll help calm him down.  “I know…” Stan whispers, just wanting to hold Kenny, to cuddle into his chest and pass out, but he knows Kenny won’t allow that just yet.

“So what happened today?” Kenny asks expectantly, not planning to let Stan off the hook so easily.  He knows exactly what Stan is gonna say- that he was upset, that he wanted to feel better, that he thought just a little bit wouldn’t hurt.  That he thought he could manage himself.

“Y-you were mad at me… I didn’t think y-you would care…” Stan whispers and bites his lip, staring downwards instead of meeting Kenny’s gaze.

“You should take care of yourself for you, not for me.”

“B-but I don’t need to!  I don’t care about me I care about you!” Stan insists, tears starting to roll down his cheeks again.  He’s gripping Kenny’s wrists tightly, afraid to let go, afraid to be alone.

“Hey, shh,” Kenny hushes him, wiping tears off of his cheek.  “Look at me. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.  Everything’s okay,” he assures Stan, who seems only mildly comforted by the sentiment, if anything.

Gently, Kenny leans forward to press a soft kiss to Stan’s temple, then each cheek, then his lips.  He can taste the salt on Stan’s skin, and is overwhelmed by the urge to hold him forever, to protect him from ever feeling like this again.  But he knows he realistically can’t do that.

Finally, he opens his arms for Stan to snuggle into his chest, between the sides of his thick parka, Stan’s face coming to rest in the crook of Kenny’s neck, which is littered with bruises from previous, more emotionally stable nights together.  He presses another kiss to the top of Stan’s head, rubbing his back gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I love you Ken…” Stan whispers, his breath hot on Kenny’s neck.  It gives the blonde goosebumps, like always. “I’m sorry for everything…”

“Hey, I said it’s okay,” Kenny whispers back, something comforting in keeping the room in a still silence.  “I love you too. Always. But we’re talking about this in the morning, okay?”

“I don’t…” Stan presses his face against Kenny’s neck, wanting to suck more bruises there, wanting to distract him, but he knows he can’t.  That wouldn’t be a good idea. “Okay.” Stan feels more tears sting his eyes, but bites his lip hard, not letting them fall.

“Get some sleep, Stan.  I won’t go anywhere.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”


End file.
